


Lying by Omission

by impish_nature



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Amnesiac Stan, Filbrick Pines was not a great father in my eyes, Gen, Implied Child Abuse, anon requested fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 13:29:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6286561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impish_nature/pseuds/impish_nature
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stan has a bad moment remembering Filbrick Pines. Ford just hopes he can pull him out the memory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lying by Omission

**Author's Note:**

> Requested prompt: 'When telling Stan about his childhood, Ford sugar coated some of the details. He brought up their fight and and stan getting kicked out of the house, but he left out telling him about other things, such as the way Filbrick treated the both of them while growing up. But one day something triggers the bad memories, and Ford realizes that he has to help Stan with both good and bad memories.'
> 
> Well I said if I hit a milestone I’d do a request so here is the one for 350 followers on tumblr ♥ Thanks, you guys ^.^ ♥  
> (Any requests should be sent to my tumblr not AO3, and yeah I won't be doing them fairly regularly because of my own fics, I'll stick to milestones for now)
> 
> Warnings: Implied child abuse/some slurs

There was something about the customer that set Stan’s teeth on edge.

He didn’t know if it was just his voice, the tone sharp, brisk and condescending as he looked around. But no, it couldn’t just be that. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had others just as scoffing and irritated at being dragged to his tourist trop. Yet there was just something about the behaviour, something so fuzzily familiar in its piercing judgement of him and his shack that he couldn’t help the way his chest puffed out in defence, his hackles raising. All in an attempt to crush the little vulnerable spark in his chest that wanted to for some reason cower back and apologise to the man for not meeting his expectations. His glare intensified as he recognised the feeling resting in his heart, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion and a small amount of self-disgust.

Stanley Pines did not  _cower_. He would not bend to another’s will under any circumstances. 

His eyes locked back onto the man as he picked up a shirt from the rack, a mild look of disgust on his face as he dropped it back again without a thought to how it landed. Stan’s eyes narrowed, his hand tapping agitatedly on the table in front of him. What was it that was irritating him so much? Was it just that he’d forgotten what it felt like to have a disappointed and irate customer? He had to admit, the customers had been more excited and better paying since Weirdmageddon had happened. Since the eccentric Mr Mystery had saved the world and he’d started to almost feel like an exhibit himself with all the photos people wanted to take with him. Not that he hadn’t cashed in on that as soon as he realised he could. Stan scoffed at the thought of saving the world though. That was what _they_ said, after all, not _him_. He’d just done what was necessary. And anyway he was sure they’d been embellishing the story with every telling that he’d heard so far.

He was almost tempted to hire some of the better story tellers, they’d be good for business.

Then again the best storyteller of them all was Soos so he guessed he had the best of both worlds.

“Why on Earth did we come here again?”

Stan snapped out of his happy little reverie, eyes straying to a small boy who shuffled over at the man’s words. He felt his hands clench tight into fists as the little boy stood hunched at his side, his shoulders slumped and head down. His eyes narrowed further, a small flash of confusion overcoming him as he tilted his head.

For a second there he was sure the boy had looked achingly familiar.

“Y-you said I could choose because it was my birthday?”

“Tsk, just shows you can’t do anything right.”

Stan felt himself take a step forward as the boy took a fearful step back, the unimpressed snarl on the man’s face fuelling a bright spark of protectiveness that swept over him even though he wasn’t entirely sure why.

“What the _hell_ is going on here?”

 

* * *

 

Ford had thought it was just another peaceful day since things had started to return to normal around Gravity Falls.

Or as ‘normal’ as Gravity Falls could get.

He had not been expecting when he came out from his lab behind the vending machine to find his brother roaring at a patron of the Mystery Shack, the mug of coffee in his hands almost slipping out in shock. Stan never did anything that would lose him money so seeing him standing in his gift shop raring for a fight had him assuming that there was an actual threat in the shack, his own nerves starting to fray at the implications the thought welled up. “Stan?”

“Not now.”

Ford blinked at the growl, standing back to take in the entire scene for a few seconds. The shop seemed deserted other than the small scene in front of him, the other customers vanishing out of the door and away from the altercation as far as he could gather. A man stood as tall as he could make himself before Stan, his face growing redder and redder by the second, full of barely contained rage as he blustered and spluttered.  A young boy barely older than 10 by Ford’s estimations stood pushed far back out of the way, behind Stan’s frame as if he was protecting him from danger. It was intriguing to him that the kid’s facial expression was scared, his eyes flitting between the two adults fighting above him. But he also seemed to be clinging to Stan’s trouser leg ever so slightly as if scared of it being seen but relishing the comfort. Ford frowned, connecting the dots and glancing back at the other man, his first impressions of him sinking even further through the floor.

They both knew a man like this one.

Or used to know one, he should say.

“Are you hurt, Ford?”

“Huh?” Ford blinked, glancing back over at Stan, frown vanishing into an owlish blinking. He looked down at himself then at the scene before him and back again, wondering how on earth Stan had come to that conclusion. “Why would I be hurt, Stan?”

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Stan snapped, not even turning to him before he looked down at the boy, his face softening into a coaxing, reassuring smile. “Sixer? Buddy? You OK?” The boy stared back at him, obviously unnerved by it all but slightly too scared to say anything so he just nodded once, his lip quivering. Stan sighed, a small relieved sound as he ruffled the boy’s hair. “Th-that’s good to hear. I’d never forgive myself if he hurt you.”

Ford felt like all of his insides had left him, all the air rushed out of his lungs and leaving him utterly hollow at the sudden start reality before him.

He had told Stan a lot of stories since the kids had discovered that Stan was still capable of recalling memories with the right coaxing, teasing the thoughts out like threads, slowly and methodically. He’d gone through all their happy memories, their bright childhood days spent exploring the beach, the forts they’d built and the adventures they’d had. Their dreams and wishes for the future. Anything and everything to bring a small nostalgic smile to Stan’s face as he remembered the salty smell of the ocean and the beat of the sun on sand encrusted skin.

He had unfortunately and fairly evidently had to recite the defining moment when Stan had been kicked from their home however, his stomach churning as he recanted the tale to his brother and wondered just what horrors he had then faced in the 10 years they had been apart. But that was something that couldn’t be avoided. There had been too many questions, too many variables and interlocking memories all tied to that one particular incident that made it impossible to ignore. Made impossible for Stan to truly remember things without there being a vital part of the puzzle missing.

_But why, Ford? Why were we in this mess to begin with?_

And so he had taken the plunge. Taken a deep breath and told him everything, watched the guilt and pain swirl across his face as his mind finally let him see the painful recollections. And just as suddenly, it sparked a chain reaction and suddenly Stan was asking him if things were all in his imagination or if they had actually happened and Ford had felt his heart swell at having found a good use for the memory after all because Stan was becoming himself more and more with every recollection that he came across, as every story that Ford had told him about their older years finally seemed to make sense now with that titbit of information guiding him.

And yet there were still other memories that he had selfishly decided to ignore, that he had hidden from both their views and buried deep down in the hopes that no one would find them again. Had decided that there were things best left unsaid even with his brother wanting to know everything he possibly could considering the circumstances. He’d just wanted to give Stan some piece of mind, some untarnished memories in amongst the horror he knew his later life had led. Wanted him to remember the good times, the bright sunny days in Glass Shard Beach instead of the nights, the looming evenings that had plagued their childhood and spurred their dreams of leaving that place for good ever onwards.

He shook his head, feeling suddenly smaller, inexplicably younger as he watched Stan stand in front of the young boy. Watched the image blur into two small boys stood in front of their towering father, his ever present glasses hiding his expression from them and making them feel more lost than ever. Felt the Shack shift into a different shop, one age old with nostalgia and probably lost and forgotten to time by now, as a small priceless item lay broken at their feet. A testament to boisterous boys playing where they shouldn’t. And there was Stan, stood in front of him as always, blurting out that it was his fault, all so that he’d receive the brunt of the punishment. It wasn’t even a particular incident he was remembering, a myriad of them interlocking; late for their curfew, rough housing, not getting the grades they’d expected, even being _bullied_ had been enough to garner their father’s ire.

_I’m doing this to make you stronger. You’ll thank me one day._

Ford shuddered at the thought, his mind snapping back to the present as he heard another warning sound from Stan, the man before him having tried to step forward.

“No, _you’ve_ done enough. Not anymore. I won’t stand for it!”

Ford winced at the words, realising just how caught up Stan was in the memory that he himself had just seen. He dragged himself forward, hands up defensively already, just in case Stan turned on him. He knew full well that both of them bore a resemblance to their father now and he didn’t want to risk becoming part of the memory by seeming threatening. He cursed at himself, hindsight flaring up as he realised that really, if he’d just told Stan everything like he was supposed to then he wouldn’t be having this flashback in the first place. They’d have already gone through these motions in the quiet and relatively safe environment of the living room sofa. Away from prying eyes and unexpected catalysts where he could dampen down the tirade instead of glossing over it entirely like he had actually done. Sure, Stan might have still told the customer to leave, or had a harsh ‘word’ with him but Ford couldn’t be sure, never having watched his brother work before his memories had been taken from him.

Didn’t know if this was close to typical Stan behaviour or was just pure recollection spurring him on.

Now he just had to figure out how to snap Stan out of it before he did something he would, or could, regret.

“That’s my _son_ -”

“So? Doesn’t make you a good father-”

“ _Lee_.” Ford felt his voice wobble slightly, glad when the tone made Stan pause and turn towards him for the first time. His eyes were slightly glazed as he took Ford in appraisingly before glancing down at the boy and up again with a squint of bewilderment. He wondered if it was the old name that he rarely used now that had nudged him back to him, or if it was that his voice had taken on a higher pitch than usual. But whatever it was apparently Stan had focussed in on it, his head tilting as he studied Ford for a few seconds longer.

In that position he didn’t notice the fist flying towards him as his return to the present left him unguarded and vulnerable.

Luckily Ford, however, was unimpressed by the man’s movements, a lifetime beyond the portal honing skills his father had never been able to instil in him.

He took great satisfaction in that thought as he twisted the man’s arm before he had a chance to hit his brother, slamming him into the ground without any preamble.

“I think it best you leave now.” Ford hissed through gritted teeth, dropping the man’s arm a few moments later and letting him rise slowly. He hoped it was obvious from his behaviour, the fact that he was letting him go with nothing more than a warning, that he found the other nothing more than a minimal threat.

“Crazy old _freaks_! You should both be locked up where you can’t hurt anyone.”

Ford winced at the wording, his glare intensifying as he pointed out of the doorway, keeping his mouth tightly shut, his gaze dark as his body language did the talking for him.

“You. Here.”

Ford jumped at the whimper, spinning round as the boy darted out at his father’s words, Stan’s hands outstretched towards him to bring him back. Ford couldn’t help the twisting guilt that lodged in his chest as he watched the boy run to his father, tail between his legs.

Who knew what would happen next.

He hoped it was less than they had gone through.

He hoped that it was easy to get help all these years later against what they would hav been able to get.

“Ford? What did I just do?”

Ford tore his eyes from the boy as Stan sunk slowly to the floor, his head gripped in his hands. His voice was quiet and so utterly lost that it sent a pang of deep sadness through Ford’s heart. “Stan? Stan, are you OK? Where does it hurt?” He darted forward, hands hovering around his brother as his mind warred with itself; desperate to help but also terrified of overcrowding him if more memories were forcing their way through.

“I thought he was _Pa_ , Ford. And I don’t know why but it filled me with so much _loathing_ and resentment and – I directed that at a stranger-”

“With good reason.” Ford interjected, unable to stop himself.

“Not really. I don’t know him, I saw him interact with his kid for all of two seconds. That’s all. Can I really say I saw anything that was-” Stan ran a hand through his hair, looking down at the other hand shaking away on his knee as he gripped at his trouser leg tightly, trying to ground himself. “All I really did was scare that poor kid shi-”

“Uhm.”

Both brothers jumped, glancing round at the small boy, shifting back and forth on the balls of his feet as he took a glance at the door every few seconds, gauging what little time he had. “Dad’s busy on the phone so- wanted to tell you that-” The boy glanced down, worrying his shirt between his fingers as his eyes darted between the floor and Stan every couple of seconds. “Thank you? A-And I really like it here, unlike-unlike D-dad.”

“Well, you’re welcome any time, kid.” Stan let out a long whistling breath with the words, his gaze softening and his shoulders relaxing. His words came out quick and charming as he seemed to slip back into his persona without any trouble, the boy’s reappearance settling some of his nerves. The boy beamed brightly at his response before he ran back outside with a quick wave to them that had him waving slowly back, his smile soft and thoughtful.

“See? He knows he can always come here if anything happens. That’s something, right?”

“Y-yeah.”

Ford waited for more, expecting a slew of questions or at least something that broached the subject of whatever he had seen.  His brother however stayed knelt, eyes still fixed on the door the boy had left through with a soft concern as if he had forgotten Ford was even standing next to him. Ford couldn’t help the soft hesitant smile that spread across his face at seeing his brother so protective over a kid he barely knew.

The smile twitched downwards as he wondered how much their painful memories had played a part in making Stan who he was today. Another small tale that he had heard once a few weeks ago rearing up out of the gloom. A story of a man who had hired a young boy to be his handyman and had kept him on, taught him the skills he needed all because of a conversation with the boy’s guardian. All because of her grateful words that she was thankful he finally had a good father figure to look up to.

It was with a heavy heart that he realised as painful as the memories were, every single memory made Stan who he was. From boxing lessons to dreams of adventuring the world, each moment added another layer to him that Ford couldn’t keep from him no matter how much he wanted to protect him.

“Hey Sixer…he wasn’t really that bad, was he?”

Ford flinched at the quiet question that floated between them, the hushed tone of someone who didn’t want to believe what they were seeing, what they knew had to be true.

As much as he wanted to shield it from him, make all the bad memories go away, it really wasn’t his choice to make.

They were Stan’s memories, he deserved them all, to know just how strong he always had been.

How strong he’d been for both of them.

“Come on. I think it’s time we sat down and talked about some things I’ve been…hiding from.” Ford stood up with a groan, a small slightly fake smile locked onto his face as he put his hand out for Stan to take. Stan scrutinised his expression before nodding slowly, his face showing the sudden clarity of knowing that something had been kept from him. But he seemed to be taking it in stride, no sudden anger at being lied to or outright mistrust. Just seeking answers quietly as he took Ford’s steady grip and pulled himself up, waiting for his brother to make the first move.

It was with that knowledge that Ford took a deep breath and put the closed sign up at the door, making the decision all the more real and undeniable with the small action.

Because Ford was done hiding from him.

If he really wanted to help his brother he had to wade through the storm with him, the good and the bad memories.

Stan was counting on him to do that.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again for the 350 followers ♥ Love you all ^.^


End file.
